In Shades of Krimzon The Dead Town Assault
by GriffinsWings
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happened at the Assault at Dead Town? Follow Cyrun, a Captain of the Krimzon Guard as he leads his men through the massacre at the sacred site; As they attempt to protect themselves and civilians left to die outside the shield.
1. Chapter 1

**In Shades of Krimzon**

The Dead Town Assault

Sometimes I feel it's a wonder that the KG still exists at all. Although the Baron ensures that there are new troops, it's almost impossible to find a familiar face. Everyone always leaves the Guard, be it physically or mentally. Some people quit when they finish basic training. I, personally, have never understood why they have the audacity to join in the first place. Others tend to meet their ends at the claws of the Metal-Heads.

Once in a while you get someone who has been around long enough to realize what an _absolutely fantasti__c_ gig this really is. After all, who wouldn't want to work _here?_ There are young officers, suicide missions, sacrifices, not to mention the constant thought of how little the Baron cares for his soldiers, and how much paranoia is wasted on keeping power over a city made up of civilians who's lives he's slowly driving into the ground.

These seasoned Guard members who have lived to figure this out quit, go AWOL, commit suicide… Or submit to the alternative—succumb to the madness.

Honestly, I think the dead ones are better than the crazies.

Meanwhile, the Baron churns new faces into the machine. Cannonfodder. Fresh paint for the Metal Heads' nest. My buddies sit and watch from the Officer balcony in the fortress and try to guess which stage of the game they fit into.

The next to quit?

The next to die?

The future traitor?

It's always written on their faces. Their place on the table is clear as day to someone who's seen a thousand go before them.

Where do I fit in this scale, you ask? The truthful answer would be "I don't know". Somewhere between Torn and Erol, I guess. Between a death wish and a blood lust. Insanity, and the perfectly sane.


	2. Chapter 2

It's odd how when we remember the most hellish moments in our lives, we curse how unsuspecting we were.

I vividly remember how we sat eating breakfast in the KG mess hall. How I faked flinging a spoonful of cereal at the cute Lieutenant at the next table over... the calm before the storm.

Our expectations were fairly low for the day. After all, there had been no Metal Heads on the radar for weeks.

The familiar clacking of armored boots reverberated on the metal floor as I saw my commanding officer approaching.

A smirk crossed my face as I stood. "And what do I owe the honors to, Commander?"

I gave a hearty salute.

"Don't give me that." Erol spat. He placed his hands on his hips and threw his shoulders back. "I don't need your attitude today, Cyrun."

I chuckled to myself. "Did someone water down the coffee this morning? What's wrong with you?"

I barely caught his twitch of a smile. Either he had found _some_ humor in my coffee comment, or he knew something I didn't.

Erol adjusted his mask on top of his head and dismissed my comment. His untamed fire-orange hair and bubble-eyed mask didn't do much for his "not-crazy" image, but I felt that it might not have been the best thing to bring up right then.

"Your group has patrol out east today." He spat.

I raised an eyebrow at him. My men were specially trained for the Metal Head lines. This was the kind of mission my men would joke about. However, it's not like I was in any position to argue.

"Alright." I replied. "I'll round up the team and head out."

Our orders were simple: A routine check at the East Harbor.

I carried out roll-call as my team mounted their zoomers.

East Harbor was one of the oddest parts of the city you could ever be in. Not only was it the historical area that held the sacred site, but it was also the least visibly protected. There were a few, strikingly tall metal walls, but other than that, the purple-tinged shield-wall was all that kept any theoretical metal-heads from waltzing right into Haven. This was the only area where you could see the small island that Haven City rest on— The only place in the floating fortress where you could see sand. There were ships docked near houses build on sand-dunes. A sense of unfamiliarity was always present in the area.

It was odd not being surrounded by metal.

I hopped off of my zoomer as Braxton and Emerae arrived with a HellCat.

Braxton leaned out of the cruiser, one hand on the dividing beam, the other firmly on his gun.

He was my strategy assistant right out of boot camp. He had a keen eye for finding weaknesses in enemy lines, and, if given a few minutes to study, could draw incredible maps of any unfamiliar area.

"Good thinking." I joked as they drove up to me.

"As always, sir." He grinned back.

It was standard procedure to bring at least one HellCat to every foot patrol on the city. Whether or not we thought it was needed was inconsequential, especially if I didn't want to have my ass chewed by Erol again.

Driving the large cruiser was never a problem as long as Emerae was around, though. At times, I wondered if she was physically joined to the team's HellCat. You could never find her in the rec-room. In her free time, she would take it around town for pleasure cruises, or polish it in the landing. Rumor was that she slept in that cruiser, but I hadn't ever witnessed that much.

All I knew is that she had the innate ability to handle corners with the clunky thing without touching anything else on the road—which was more than I can say for half of the other KG.

Actually, it's more than I can say for myself.

The metal gate that separated the Slums from East Harbor closed behind us as the last of my men trickled through.

I directed Emerae to take Bricker, a big man who carried most of the heavy artillery, toward the center of the Cove and lap around a few times.

I sent Braxton with a few others—Jessamine, Bently, Raizel and Aubri—

to patrol the coastline while I took Lark, Corvan, Wyler and Tinder to the docks.

A little over an hour passed, and there had been no trouble. There were a few arrests for minor infractions, a few notices written on doors, but nothing big. Nothing unusual.

I had been returning for my fifth lap of the docks when a static came from the communicator at my side.

Certain that it had only been a simple "All Clear" from one of the other groups, I started to continue on and dismiss it.

A single glance from Lark told me to wait though.

Lark pulled out his radio and pressed the microphone button.

"Repeat? Repeat last message." He asked clearly.

It would be fair to say that it's difficult for me to describe what happened next. I'm not sure if this is because of the haze that settles into your memories as time passes, or because of the jumble of information that's taken in when your senses heighten from adrenaline.

There was static, then a screeching noise and a distant scream.

Several gunshots.

"Shit!" came a voice from the radio.

The whole Harbor turned dark for a moment. It was as though a large cloud had moved over the sun. Almost simultaneously, faces of the people in the harbor looked up. Guard members, shoppers, sailors and traders all turned to the sky.

A shocking purple seemed to coat everything above us as the shield wall zapped to life. Slowly the purple faded—dissipated as though being eaten by bugs.

"The shield is down!" Braxton's voice called through the radio. "Metal Heads everywhere. Get the Civilians out!"

The sun shone brightly through the cracks in the shield and a strange kind of light seemed to rise over the watery horizon.

Like a darkened dawn of glowing metalhead eyes and skulls among the sea of black. The dawn of our death.

Welcome to Hell.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

They say that hindsight is 20-20, but I don't know if that's always the case. After all, it's difficult sometimes to get an accurate picture of the past when, for example, half of the people who witnessed the event are dead.

It was a full month after the attack when I finally received word of what tore down the shield wall.

Braxton had been marching along the side shield wall with the others when he finally stopped on the far side of the Harbor.

"Alright, guys. Take a break." He told the others.

Braxton sat on the edge of a wooden walkway and let his feet dangle above the water.

Raizel stopped behind Jessamine and looked up through the purple-tinted wall.

"Gosh, that sand goes on forever, doesn't it?" Raizel's deep voice spoke. His gray eyes scanned the edge of the beach in the distance.

East Harbor, it's said, had once attached to the Wastelands. But that was long ago, when Haven was first founded. At that point, all that was left of what used to connect the harbor to the great expanse of sand was a long bridge-like dune.

"I'd sure hate to get thrown out there." He said. He took a drink of the canteen he kept at his side.

"Why do you think we're in the Guard, man?" Aubri replied. "Think about it, if we weren't here, he'd toss us out there."

Exiling people to the wastelands was not an uncommon practice. Still isn't really. The Baron doesn't like to make a huge deal out of it except to those who he's threatening. There's no need to have people distrusting the "selfless" rule of their Baron until he decides you're not worth anything unless you're fighting on the front lines or keeping people in their place.

"Shut up, Aubri." A gruff voice added. Bentley strode up to the others and folded his arms. "Some of us are here to kick some ass. And if you say a word against the Baron, I'd consider it traitorous not to kick yours."

Aubri flushed a deep shade of red. "What was that, Bentley?" She asked.

She squared her shoulders and turned to face him. He didn't tower over her by any means. Aubri was tall for a girl, and was not the kind to allow herself to be pushed around. Her renown in the Krimzon Guard had been evidence of that.

"You heard me, bitch. Keep your damned mouth shut if you don't want me feeding your carcass to the Metal Heads." Bentley shot back. His lips curled into a smirk as he watched her temper rising.

"Hey!" Braxton called. "Cool it, you two."

Aubri snarled, her face mere inches from Bentley's. "Yep." She replied to Braxton.

"No problem, chief." Bentley said.

Raizel rolled his eyes.

Bentley was never my favorite of the team. He was often the instigator of any slight turmoil. However, even he had his place. He was horribly good at getting information out of almost anyone, which was probably partially due to his ability to invoke any emotion he wanted. _Surprisingly enough_, that emotion was most typically rage. He seemed to like seeing exactly how long it took for him to piss the shit out of you. And it usually wasn't very long.

As Braxton started to radio a standard check-in to me, Raizel and Jessamine had wandered to the edge of one of the docks. Right to the edge of a shield wall.

"Hah. Look at the Metal Heads out there." Jessamine chuckled.

A few Metal Heads were lurking around the edge of the water. Their glowing yellow eyes seemed transfixed on the Harbor at the sight of the humans—almost as though they were waiting for something.

Raizel turned his head oddly. "It's funny that the people we're protecting from those things can live watching them out there on the desert. This shield wall doesn't look any more substantial than a sheet of glass."

He held a hand a few inches above the purple shield wall, as though afraid to touch it.

"Yeah." Jessamine replied. "But it's not. There's the full brunt of the eco grid working there. They're not getting through."

Bentley, upon hearing their conversation, had moved closer. He placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward.

"Yeah, you're not so tough out there, are ya?" He teased the thing.

The dark creature moved forward angrily.

Raizel took a step backward and held his gun aloft.

My men were used to fighting outside the shield wall. They knew how powerful they were. They understood how their claws could cut through armor as easily as pressing a knife through yakkow butter. They knew how quickest way to end your life would be to make them angry.

And yet Bentley pressed on.

"Take it easy, jumpy. Don't get trigger happy." He shoved Raizel to the side as he crossed to the dune where the Metal Head stood.

He leaned down to look at it, his face inches away from the shield wall, directly opposite where its face sat, equidistant.

"Yeah, you're actually kinda cute huh? Harmless."

The Metal Head clawed at the wall instantly. A slight ripple appeared in the clear purple and the creature jumped back in shock.

It waved its clawed arm as smoke trailed off of it's burnt flesh.

"I'd like to see you try that again." Bentley teased.

His gun raised slightly higher in his arms and he lay his finger on the trigger. His eyebrow cocked at the creature as though daring him to tell him to fire.

A large blast fired from Bentley's gun and hit the shield wall with some force. This time, a hole tore through the shield as the electric current ran through. It quickly refilled itself as the Metal Head looked up.

"Bentley, I think you should stop." Jessamine asked.

Bentley laughed to her face. "Right." He said.

The creature moved down on all fours and ran off toward the mountains again.

"See. With this thing in the way, they're completely harmless."

Raizel looked up at the mountains. The mountain range itself seemed to be turning black.

"What the hell…?" he muttered quietly.

"Take it from me." Bentley started again. "Those things can't do a damned thing once they're outside of that wall. Not one of them. Not a thousand of them."

Dark shadows swept across the distant horizon and a black dust seemed to kick up.

"Bentley…" Raizel spoke.

"Not a hundred thousand of those buggers. I don't even know why we go out and shoot them… They're not gonna get in here."

"Bentley…."

"What a bunch of weaklings…"

"Shit."

Raizel turned quickly back toward the others.

"Braxton!" he called in desperation.

Braxton stood up and turned around. "What's—"

His jaw dropped open as he saw the approaching Metal Heads.

Hundreds of them, both land-bound and air-borne, were flocking toward the town.

Braxton fumbled for his radio as the flying creatures moved over the sun.

Bentley stepped backward as the first wave of Metal Heads hit the shield wall.

His grin flitted from his face as the shield wall tore through. A large shockwave ran through the shield, but this time, it did not repair. The corpses of the first wave fell through and splashed into the ocean and onto the docks.

An arm slipped around Bentley's and wrenched him away from his spot just in time to prevent him from being crushed by the falling bodies.

"Move!" Aubri shouted as she dragged him forward.

Two shots fired from Raizel's gun as a Metal Head charged toward him. His gun clattered to the ground as the Metal Head's claws tore through his shoulders.

He screamed out in pain.

"Braxton! Call Cyrun!" Aubri called.

"Right!"

Braxton took the radio from his side and held the button. He shot the Metal Head that was attacking and kicked it off of his comrade.

"Lark! Lark, come in!"

There was no answer.

A flying Metal Head was starting toward a tiny girl.

His eyes rest on her. She was so fragile and defenseless. Braxton ran toward her and lifted her by the waist under his arm.

"The shield wall is down!" He paged. "Metal Heads everywhere. Get the Civilians out!"

He ran toward a door to a house above the water and opened it. He set her down inside.

"Get inside." He told her. "Lock the door and don't open it. Not for anyone."

Her tiny face was streaked with tears. "But my Papa!" She cried. "Where is he?"

He hushed her. "He'll be waiting for you when you get home. I'll come back and get you. I'll take you back to him.

"I promise."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The fourth chapter will not be posted until the 1st of August due to an overwhelming ammount of other commitments

Sorry for the delay.


	4. Chapter 4

Darkness.

Darkness and dust.

It had been at least an hour since we had word from Braxton.

In the dim light coming in through the boarded-up windows, I could see the faces of both Guard and Civilians mingled together. Corvan sat poised by the window, while next to him there were several huddled civi's. There was a young man with dusty blue-gray hair. He was dressed in now-tattered work clothes and was cradling his right arm. And next to him there was an older woman, her scraped knees pressed to her chest, sobbing quietly.

Wyler was comforting one of the children we had pulled from the water when the shield wall fell. Tinder and Lark were both nearer the door. There was a heavy feeling in the room that seemed to bring out all sorts of questions. How did they get in? How long would we sit here? Were we safe here? Would they find us?  
Though my crew all shared similar questions, I would assume, there was an energy to their faces. I could tell that they were growing antsy. Why weren't we out there fighting?

I placed a hand behind myself carefully so as not to let the tank strapped to my back clank as I rest my back on the wall.

I scanned the room once more, before finally looking at Lark. "No verdict?" I murmured.

He shook his head.

We had made several radio calls to the Palace, asking for reinforcements, but none had come yet. Surely the backup shield wall hadn't taken that long or that many people to set up?

Of course, there would be the initial wave of Metal Heads entering the city, but the backup shield was far stronger. Stronger, but smaller. It would be enough to protect the center of Haven City, probably through the outskirts of the slums.

Corvan shifted slightly in his spot, his eyes intensely staring out one of the larger cracks in the boards.

"The backup is up, sir." He said.

A wave of relief spread over me. "So it shouldn't be long now." I said, half in assurance to my crew, and half to the civilians.

However, Corvan shook his head. "No. The backup has been up for the past ten minutes. I don't think they're coming."

There was a silence.

"What?"

"I don't think they're coming." He repeated.

I slowly got to my feet and moved carefully over to where Corvan sat at the window.

He was right. There were no cruisers coming, despite the electric blue glow that covered the visible area of Haven City.

So that was it. The Baron himself was safe, along with some of the wealthier districts and he shuts the gates? The Baron was just going to let these civilians die?

I chuckled to myself.

"Fine." I said suddenly. I got back to my feet and moved to the center of the room. "If the Baron wants to leave us out here, that's okay. We'll just have to find our own way back."

There were smirks around on the crew's faces. The kind of expression you gain when you know that you only have a fifty-fifty chance of making it back home alive. But there wasn't a single member of my crew that would rather wait in the wreckage for another hour.

"Corvan, how close is the door?" I asked.

Without looking out the window again, he answered. "About 400 meters away, sir."

"Good. That's our target then. Lark, Wiler, and Tinder—you stay back with the civi's until we give the word. Corvan and I will scout and see who else we can find. If we find a closer shelter, we'll radio back and get you there. If any of us happens to meet up with any of the rest of the crew, find out what our losses are, keep them down and report back to Braxton or me. Understood?"

There were a few quiet "Yes sir!"s from the crowd, and slowly, the sniper and I made our way out one of the lower windows, which was instantly boarded behind us.


End file.
